Chapter 11

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  I realized too late that there was no way I would walk away from this situation without looking like an idiot. But then I remembered I didn’t care what people thought of me. Even if “people” was the famous Sherlock Holmes. I took a deep breath.

    “What I’m about so say is going to sound ludicrous, but every word is true,” I said, raising my eyes to stare at the detective. “You know of the Greek and Roman gods and the myths that go along with them, of course. Well, they aren’t just myths. The gods are real.”

    Sherlock laughed bitterly, turning his back to me and walking toward the window. Mr. Watson started to say something snide, but I interrupted.

    “Do you really think I would dare to make a fool of myself in front of you, the famous detective?” I said, stepping toward Sherlock. “You’ve already decided that I’m not a liar, so hear me out.”

    He didn’t respond, so I continued.

    “I know it must seem impossible, since you haven’t seen any evidence. And there are several reasons for that, which I can go into if you like.”

    He was silent.

    “The main reason why is because there is a substance called the Mist that surrounds gods, demigods, monsters, and other legendary things. It manipulates the minds of mortals to make them see what they want to see.” I hesitated. How was I supposed to do this? There was no way he would believe me.

    Why do I care? Tell him the truth. The rest is up to him.

    I straightened my shoulders.

    “Sometimes, Mr. Holmes,” I said, beginning to pace in front of the door, “The gods fall in love with mortals. Sometimes they have children.”

    I glanced at him as I said this, but he didn’t react.

    “Those children are the demigods,” I said, coming to a standstill. “And I am one of them. If you can think back sixteen years, Sherlock, do you ever remember meeting a woman who—“

    “This is ridiculous,” he said, rubbing his forehead.

    “It’s really not,” I said, firmly. “Because this woman wouldn’t have been an ordinary woman. She would’ve been smart. Smarter, perhaps, than even you. My mother is Minerva, the goddess of battle strategy. And, to put your mind to rest, Mr. Holmes, I’ll let you know that Minerva doesn’t have children like normal woman do. She has brain-children. You know the story— how she was born from Zeus’s head? That’s how I was born. If you and Minerva had a moment of like-minded genius, that’s all it would take. So, you didn’t necessarily have to—“

    “You’re a raving lunatic,” Mr. Watson said, staring at me. I looked at them.

    “Maybe I am,” I said, smirking. I could be, for all I knew. And what was the point in defending myself? They were never going to believe me. Let them think what they want.

    “What do you think, dad?” I said, just to irk him. He whirled around to face me, his piercing eyes glaring ferociously. I automatically began calculating my escape options if things became violent.

    But then the door behind me swung open. I turned around to see an older man with gray hair and a beard standing in the doorway. He thrust a card toward me and I took it. I had to read it several times before I comprehended what it said: “Dr. Thorneycroft Huxtable, M.A., Ph.D.”.

    I looked back up at him. He stared into my eyes, blinked, and then collapsed.

*・゜゚・*:.。.:**・゜゚・*:.。.:**・゜゚・*:.。.:**・゜゚・*:.。.:**・゜゚・*:.。.:**・゜゚・*:.。.:**・゜゚

Author's Note:

I know this one was short, guys, so I'm going to post twice this week! Prepare for Chapter 12, coming this Wednesday!! Anyway, you know the drill! ^.^ Comment your thoughts! Press that little star button if you want! Just keep being awesome. <3 Have a great week!

~ Mary P.J.

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